Disability

            Kim and I have what is called a “disability parking placard.” I know that’s what it’s called because I just looked it up, and A.I. told me. We usually call it our “handicap thing-y” that we try to remember to hang on our rear-view mirror. It features a bold outline of a wheelchair, as does the sign next to the disability parking place.

 

            We got our disability parking placard a couple of years ago when Kim was experiencing difficulties with her knees. We use it regularly, as parking in one of the marked places near the door of a store or office is more than just convenient – it’s often necessary.

 

            Do I use it to find a nice parking place when I’m out on my own, without Kim? Yes, but rarely – and I fake a limp when I get out of the car. The placard also helps me with one of my disabilities: I sometimes forget where I parked my car, and it helps if I can spot it from the door of the building.

 

            It’s fortunate that we have a disability parking place right outside the door to our condo entrance. What’s not so fortunate is that we are not the only disabled people to use that parking lot, so sometimes we have a bit further to walk. Or perhaps I improvise a parking place where none existed until we drove in to it. In fact, the ability to create a parking place where none existed before is one of my superpowers – the opposite of a disability.

 

            I think we should expand the practice of giving a break to people with disabilities, especially the disabilities associated with age. Cars being driven by geezers with disabled senior brains could have disability bumper stickers, mainly to warn other drivers that the car may wander a bit out of the lane, drive at an unsafe slow speed, turn abruptly when the driver spots a bathroom, neglect to signal turns, or just pause in the middle of the road while the driver tries to remember where he or she is going. Perhaps there should be geezer lanes on expressways, but also in cities.

 

            Cars driven by student drivers carry such bumper sticker warnings about the young driver – though those cars usually are driven better than average because there is a teacher riding shotgun. Kim rides shotgun for me, saying things like “There’s a stop sign,” or “The speed limit here is 40,” or “You just missed the parking lot,” or “Red light!!!!”

 

            But I digress. What was I saying . . .?